


New Cars, Old Cars

by MistyBeethoven, mosriteluv



Category: Agatha Christie's Poirot (TV)
Genre: Cars, Classic Cars, F/M, Floor Sex, Jealousy, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, Naked Female Clothed Male, Oral Sex, Pining, Protectiveness, Regret, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 17:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21432217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosriteluv/pseuds/mosriteluv
Summary: When Miss Felicity Lemon begins dating Edwin Graves, and Poirot busies himself with the resulting Adventure of the Italian Nobleman, Captain Arthur Hastings realizes how much Poirot's secretary means to him. However, things are not always what they seem...
Relationships: Arthur Hastings/Felicity Lemon
Kudos: 5





	New Cars, Old Cars

I thought to myself for a bit.

Sometimes there wasn't much time to gather a person's thoughts, especially while on a case with Poirot. But right now I wasn't on a case. I was still in shock from the revelations from this afternoon. I had wanted to talk to Miss Lemon about the car I was thinking of buying: the car that I was taking 7 weeks to decide upon. I looked for her in her office, as I had done so many times before, only to discover that she wasn't there. It was twenty past two. Miss Lemon not being on time was like Poirot being late for an appointment. It just wasn't like her.

When I told Poirot about Miss Lemon not being there, Poirot only seemed more intent on the letter he was reading. It was only a few seconds later that I heard Miss Lemon coming in. She was apologetic but something seemed different about her; she seemed unusually _happy_. It seemed like Poirot knew what was going on which only bothered me all the more. Why was I so slow on the up chuck when it came to gauging people's actions and behavior? From what Poirot was saying, it sounded like Miss Lemon had been to dinner with a _man_. For some reason this deeply troubled me.

I just stared, or maybe gawked, at Miss Lemon, whom just smiled at me.

When Miss Lemon left the room and went into her office, I decided to ask Poirot what was going on. When Poirot motioned to me to come towards him, he told me about Miss Lemon's admirer. I was stunned and in disbelief as I muttered the single word "no" aloud, only to turn and see Miss Lemon fixing her makeup in a mirror.

Why was this news bothering me so much? Surely I should be happy for her but I just wasn't. I had known Miss Lemon for many years now; we had both been employed by Poirot for a while. I wasn't even sure if we were friends or merely work acquaintances. I personally had come to think more of our relationship than that, but I had no idea how Miss Lemon felt. Clearly not in the same manner, I woefully realized, or she would not be off galavanting with strange men. I thought all this as I plopped down on to the couch with a childish pout creeping onto my face and my arms folded in defiance. 

I guess, I was just in disbelief. I always assumed Miss Lemon would be _Miss_ Lemon: _single_ Miss Lemon. The woman that I found excuses just to go into her office to chat with; the bit of feminine grace that had decorated the office even when her hair was all done up looking so very prim and proper. I suppose that I took Miss Lemon for granted. While dealing with my many infatuations, and fancying this girl or that, I guess I had overlooked the one girl in particular that had always got my motor running. Her name being Felicity Lemon. The woman whom had chewed me up after I paid a bill which I wasn't supposed to and made a mess of her usually immaculate filing system; all while trying to find that very same bill I wasn't supposed to pay.

Stern Miss Lemon.

Miss Lemon with the pretty red hair and beautiful blue eyes.

Hypnotic blue eyes...

Felicity Lemon whom had helped me get my first hole in one.

I felt a deep yearning come over me but there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it; it was too late. Miss Lemon would probably end up becoming Mrs. Graves in the not so distant future and all the love I felt for her I would likely have to bury in a grave all its own.

The next morning when I awoke, I had finally decided to buy the silly old car, after all. It would give me something to get my mind off of Miss Lemon and Mr. Graves. I told myself, perhaps a bit naughtily, that if I couldn't get into Miss Lemon I could at least get into the Eliso Freccia and drown my sorrows there.

Everything went smoothly at the car dealership. I was in very good spirits when I arrived at work and even the unfortunate presence of Mr. Edwin Graves could not dampen my mood.

Well...not outwardly at least.

I think, I made rather good chit chat, if I daresay. I even made a joke about Mr. Graves boat.

After that, the series of incidents which followed were not out of the ordinary for Poirot and myself. Mr. Graves' master, a certain Count Foscatini, ended up being supposedly blackmailed and then subsequently murdered and Poirot and I were on the case. I didn't dare tell my old friend about my personal involvement in the affair. I didn't want the old boy to laugh or offer me up one of those confounded lectures that he was so fond of; the ones that always made me feel rather stupid while he came off looking like some sort of genius. Anyway, it turned out that Mr. Graves' had exaggerated his working position: He was not a private secretary but rather a butler. I couldn't see how it properly mattered but I couldn't say that I wasn't amused by the fact that the man's deception just might put a slight bump in his relationship with Poirot's efficent and no nonsense secretary.

And to my delight it seemed to. Miss Lemon certainly was not quite so fond of her new beau and I could quietly gloat to myself even escaping Poirot's usual potent powers of observation. These same powers also failed my Belgian friend when it was I and not him whom remembered that Graves boat was in Chichester. Of course, Poirot's heart wasn't involved in the whole Lemon and Graves affair like mine was. Often, the things which break our hearts are the things we can't forget. No matter how hard we try.

So Poirot, Japp and myself were off to Chichester to stop the slimy villian before he could abscond with Bruno Vizzini's payoff money. There we watched in the distance as Graves real wife entered the picture. And as I sat in the back of the vehicle watching her sashay by, I recalled my dear Miss Lemon again and thought about how cheap the blonde Mrs. Graves was in comparison to her.

As Foscatini's butler was getting away with the loot, it was up to me to get in the wheel of Vizzini's Eliso Freccia and speed after the murdering rascal. Anybody who decides to kill a man with the statue of the naked female form should be put away forever, is what I believe. And while killing a blackmailer might not have seemed so bad, I fully stood by my conviction that for what he had done to Miss Lemon the man deserved to hang.

"You swine!" I condemned when I struck him following our heated chase. "That's for Miss Lemon."

Being a soldier in the army, I had partaken in my fair share of violence but none felt as good as defending the woman that I had now come to realize that I loved.

I didn't look forward to giving her the rotten news, though, thinking that it would break her heart. Although, Poirot enflamed my jealousy once again when he insisted that _he_ should be the one to tell the tiny secretary! I had to spend time talking to the arrogant Chief Inspector as my mind raced with horrified thoughts of Miss Lemon being consoled by the plump Belgian detective. As luck would have it, I needn't have worried myself about it: Felicity had no more use for Edwin Graves after he had planned to destroy his employer's cat. And Poirot had no use for Miss Lemon after she brought the ill-tempered feline to his office.

I, however, was still lost in my hopeless realization concerning my love for the red-head and the fact that I couldn't summon the courage to tell her that I was actually in love with her.

Today, though, things changed when I managed to get rid of my damaged Eliso Freccia and return to my precious and not too resentful Lagonda. After leaving the office, I was surprised to find Miss Lemon lingering outside Whitehaven Mansions. She was in her hat and coat but underneath it I knew she was wearing a burgundy dress, the one with the white upper trim, and I realized that I had always been rather fond of it.

"Hello," I greeted.

"Good evening Captain Hastings," she offered in return.

"Any luck finding Foscatini's cat a good home yet?" I asked trying to make small talk.

"No," she frowned. "It's a lovely cat too."

I tried to look sympathetic when I stated, "Oh well, I'm sure that you will."

She looked at my hand. "Is it any better?" she asked.

It had been hurting after I had used it on Graves but I didn't regret it for a moment. "Much, thank you," I said, making a show of flexing the fingers.

She smiled quite prettily. "Captain Hastings," she said my name again. "I was wondering if you could take me home?"

The question both made me very happy but nervous too. Being so close to Felicity after realizing my feelings for her was a big event; one I didn't desire to spoil.

"I daresay, that I can," I said smiling. I offered her my arm and we walked to where my car was parked at the Mews.

Inside of the Lagonda, we drove to her place.

"I'm sorry about your new car," she said in sympathy.

"It's quite all right," I said. "Everything worked out in the end. The bank stopped the payment before the cheque went through and I got this beauty back."

"If you'd have asked me, I would have told you not to buy it in the first place."

I turned to look at her, slightly taken aback. "I was going to ask you your thoughts about the subject but you weren't in your office."

My travelling companion smiled softly, staring straight ahead. "Sometimes what we already have is better than what we don't, Captain Hastings. And sometimes we're just hoping to create a certain amount of jealousy to help make that understood."

I didn't know what she was talking about. Even if in my mind I give certain human characteristics to my vehicles I know in the back of my mind that it's all malarky and rubbish.

Once we reached her place, the small secretary surprised me by asking me in. "I guess, I can," I said reservedly even though I was overjoyed by the prospect.

She fixed me some tea and we sat down to drink and have a talk over some too dry biscuits. "I am dreadfully sorry about that whole mess with Graves," I apologized.

"That's water under the bridge. Besides I think I was just using the man to make someone else jealous," she revealed.

"Oh. Right," I remarked. I felt dreadfully sad knowing that she was probably referring to Poirot. She had once almost confessed that she harboured feelings for the old boy. I was now wounded to the core that they had probably never truly gone away. I took a bite from my biscuit.

"But I don't know if it worked," she said rather sadly. "So tell me, Captain Hastings...were you jealous?"

My eyes widened in shock and I nearly choked on the piece of food in my mouth. "Me?" I asked after I had regained my composure and swallowed the biscuit.

Miss Lemon nodded a sly twinkle in her eyes. "I fell in love with you after the whole business with the Countess. You were so sweet and understanding to me. In truth, I always had feelings for you I was just a little blind because I adored Mr. Poirot so much."

"Well he is smart," I admitted with a frown. "And he does have that je ne said quoi."

I watched as the petite, dainty creature rose from the couch where she was sitting and came towards me. She knelt down and placed a small hand on my knee. "Yes...but he isn't _you_."

And with that she gave me a sweet kiss.

I'm afraid, I couldn't help myself. I made the kiss a little more, shall we say, less _chaste_? Breaking away from her, trying to contain my long pent up passion, I mumbled an apology only to find her bringing those same bird like hands to my face and pulling my lips down again to meet her's. Before I knew it we had fallen on to the floor, scaring away the Count's cat, which had been sleeping peacefully by the fireplace.

While I was trying not to go too far, Miss Lemon seemed to have different plans altogether. Her thin, little hands were unbuckling my belt and pulling my trousers down.

"Miss Lemon!" I cried out more in shock than in distress. My member now was fully exposed and it looked like some large and fearsome sea creature standing on its feet as it raised it enflamed head to the sky.

I looked up to see Felicity eyeing it with hungry curiousity. She wetted her lips and smiled like a child whom had just been offered a red and delicious lollipop. "Now that's what I've been wanting to see!" she exclaimed before bringing her formerly curled lips now forming an "O" on to my awaiting organ.

The feeling of her mouth enveloping me was not like anything I had ever experienced before. It was soft and warm and wet and her tongue was trying so very hard to carress my swollen length. In fascination and pleasure, I watched as she moved her head up and down on the tower of my manhood, taking me in and letting me go all the while her lips clenched and unclenched and her tongue did its wonderful tricks.

I was about to come right there in her clever mouth but she seemed to sense it somehow. Perhaps it was the twitching piece of flesh inside her. Felicity hastily jumped to her feet, like the cats that she loved, and started to remove her stockings and knickers. As she lifted up the bottom of her dress I saw the paleness of her skin and how it seemed to be turning red around the crevice which hid her maidenhood. It was also glistening, having become very wet from her arousal. There was a tuft of brown hair above it and I suddenly realized that Miss Lemon must dye her hair.

Straddling me, she lowered herself onto my still awaiting organ. The feeling of this was pure bliss as well! Being taken in by her opening matched the sensation given by her mouth; wet and warm but also so much more fantastically tighter. She began to move her body up and down on my groin, imitating the earlier action of her head.

"Oh Felicity!" I started to moan, my voice husky and deeper from my own arousal. It sounded like some other me, more free and less inhibited. She was turning me into a wild man, one whom was just joyfully accepting the gift of her body.

She too had started to go mad in her passion and pleasure. She had loosened her hair and it fell on her shoulders, cascading loosely on them like a scarlet waterfall. She had started to feel her breasts and I tried to assist her, my hands snaking up her dress until they each found a small handful of flesh and began to squeeze and then rub each hardening nipple.

"Oooohhhh," she purred in appreciation.

Then her own moans became cries and she shouted out my name as she came. I felt her spasming around me and this sent me over, as well. I felt that monstrous part of myself begin to convulse and spurt, setting free what felt like twenty bucket loads of my seed into her now relaxing body.

"Oh Arthur!" she cooed again, falling on to my chest.

"Felicity," I murmured into the softness of her fiery locks.

I held her and we lay together on the floor of her drawing room, spent and satisfied; fully grateful for the fact that it was never too late to realize how much your old car meant to you.

Or to get it back.


End file.
